


and i run straight into your arms

by caraminha



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety Attacks, Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Spoilers, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Protective Tony Stark, Queen May Parker, Reunions, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, every man and his dog has done this now but i wrote it when it was still a popular trend i swear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-26
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2019-06-16 15:31:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15440142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caraminha/pseuds/caraminha
Summary: (INFINITY WAR SPOILERS!)Prompt from icedt-odoroki on my Tumblr: The reunion after infinity wars between irondad and spiderson. Cause we all know that this isn’t permanent. (It better not be or put that thing back where it came from or so help me)





	and i run straight into your arms

**Author's Note:**

> (Title from 'Straight Into Your Arms' by Vance Joy)

  
“There’s… there’s oxygen down there for him? He can breathe? And– and he’s with… your friends?”

  
The Raccoon turned back in his seat and shot May what was probably the most patient smile Tony imagined he could muster. “Oh, yeah, _sure._ He can breathe. They’ll be having a little _‘Back From The Dead’_ party down there. They’ll look after him, don’t you worry. I just hope they haven’t cracked open the beers.”

  
“I am Groot.”

  
“Yeah, you’re right. Kid’s superhuman. He’ll have drunk Quill under the table by now.”

  
May nodded curtly, the ghost of a maternal smile passing her lips.

  
It was clear, from the way she sat in anticipation, like a coiled spring, that going through the five stages of grief in fast-forward had taken its toll on her.

  
That, and the fact that she’d blasted into space with Tony Stark, some form of… Frog Prince-esque man-turned-raccoon and a _talking tree_ in the hopes of discovering her recently disintegrated, yet hopefully resurrected nephew?

  
Tony sympathised.

  
Shit had been crazy for a while there.

  
But they’d done it.

  
His head pounded, his wound stung, his limbs ached. His heart was out of rhythm, but they’d done it.

  
Everyone had materialised back into _living_ exactly where they’d disappeared, and they had set off as soon as humanly possible to Titan. To get him back.

  
And he couldn’t wait to see him, hold him in his arms again, whole. To apologise.

  
His hand involuntarily twitched with the muscle memory of Peter turning to ash within its grasp. 

  
In Tony’s hold. His care. His kid.

  
“Ten minutes and we’ll be there, I reckon.”

  
He looked up when he felt a warm hand on his knee. May gave him her strained, reassuring smile.

  
Tony hadn’t even attempted to dissuade her from getting on the ship. It said a lot that after everything, May’s loyalty to Peter was one of the strongest forces he’d ever come up against.

  
She rubbed a couple circles on his kneecap, then withdrew. “Breathe, Tony. Ten minutes.”

  
He nodded, swallowing audibly. Ten minutes. 

  
Ten minutes and he’d be back up Shit Creek to pick up his paddle.

  
And then he’s never going anywhere near open fucking water again in his life.

* * *

  
Public anxiety attacks always made him hyper-absorbed in the lines of his hands. The micro-cuts and the dirt in his fingernails and the way they were shaking.

  
His legs spread and head hung lax, elbows to thighs, he arched his back over till he could inspect them in excruciating detail.

  
He forced himself to focus on the way his restless foot tapped rapidly against the metal flooring, the hollow tinny sound it made in set of twenty. Inhaling on one, _two three four five six seven eight nine_ , exhaling on ten, _eleven twelve thirteen fourteen fifteen sixteen seventeen eighteen nineteen_ , inhale.

  
They’d landed about 200 inhales or so ago.

  
Rocket and Groot had exited hastily, followed by an already tearful May, who gave him a knowing nod before leaving him to his privacy. 

  
He could hear joyful, emotional reunions outside.

  
He couldn’t hear May, or… _exhale_ … Peter, over the ruckus, but it was enough to know that by the absence of sounds of upset, he was there. That they were reunited.

  
He felt compelled by the pit of his stomach that held his excitement and his gut instinct, to go out there. He wanted to so badly.

  
To see the one person other than Pepper who plugged such a huge hole in his heart.

  
But he couldn’t. The urge to exit the ship was overpowered every time by…

  
by what? 

  
The guilt? The trauma? Peter’s sickening, broken pleas, and I don’t wanna go replaying in his head like a broken record?

  
Yeah, probably.

  
He stayed that way, swirling thoughts of anxiety, nervousness and morbidity occupying him and making every part of him buzz, for what comfortably felt like forever.

  
Until the tap-tap footsteps of his own were met by another.

  
_“Tony.”_

  
His head snapped up.

  
There he was.

  
Right as rain, in one piece, never gone, never left. Five-foot-something-too-damn-small-inches, baby-faced, brilliant Peter. His Peter Parker.

  
He was crying before he could even register it. He sniffed, wringing his hands.

  
“Hey, kid.” His voiced cracked on the _hey._

  
The kid, exhausted tear tracks of his own glistening in the overhead lighting, stumbled a couple paces forward till the gap was bridged between them, and dropped to his knees in front of him.

  
And Tony reached out to catch him. Again.

  
He cupped the back of Peter’s neck tightly, vision blurring with wetness. He smeared his tears in Peter’s curls as he pressed his face down into them, gritting his teeth with the searing _need_ to be as close to him as he could. Why had he never done this before?

  
The two were caught in a fierce, messy tangle of limbs, Tony slipping off his seat to meet Peter on the floor, sobbing, desperate. Peter’s nose found the juncture of his neck, hot puffs of breath and snot meeting his skin.

  
“Are you okay? Are you alright?” He choked out, hands making a cursory inspection of Peter’s space-smelling hair and face, shoulders, back, arms.

  
“I’m fine, Tony, I’m fine, I’m good, I’m okay,” Peter’s voice was thick with emotion, “are _you? Are you okay?”_

  
Tony bypassed the reversed niceties. He needed to say this. “I’m sorry, Peter, I’m so, so sorry.”

  
“No, please, _please_ , don’t say that–”

  
“No, _please,_ Peter, let me say it. Okay? I need to say this or I _swear_ I’m gonna implode or something, kiddo, honestly, I need to tell you I’m sorry or I’ll never have a ghost of a chance of getting over this, never ever.”

  
“It’s _not_ your _fault_ –”

  
“I should’ve done more, we could’ve got it off, you should never have–you were so scared–”

  
“M’not scared anymore.”

  
“–and I’m meant to be the responsible adult, and you just turned to fucking dust - dust, Peter, you were just gone - from my arms–you were supposed to be at _MoMA_ , for god’s sake–”

  
“I’ve been there _so many times._ ” Peter laughed a watery laugh, hugging him tighter. Tony wrapped his arms closer round his back protectively, reflecting the giggle a little more hysterically. “Can I ban sorries now?” Peter murmured shakily.

  
Tony shut his eyes against Peter’s temple. There was peace in the gesture. He exhaled an incredulous laugh. “Yeah. Yeah, you can, kid. I’m done.”

  
He heard May come in and kneel beside them both, crying as well. One of Peter’s arms left him to reach for her, immediately leaving a cold spot in his side.

  
“Are you alright, Tony?” Peter whispered.

  
_No, not really. I don’t think I ever will be completely alright ever again._

  
_But you’re here._

  
“Close enough.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you wanna send me a prompt or even just chat with me, my tumblr is caraminha and im happy to do either!!!


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